


Dacryphilia

by Estivate



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga), Devilman Crybaby - (Anime)
Genre: Dacryphilia, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25574752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estivate/pseuds/Estivate
Summary: It always starts out the same. Beginning with constants. Two boys and a meeting ordained.Mostly a kitten, but sometimes it’s a puppy, and always there is rain. Enough pitter-patter to quell the rest of the world, except for one’s sobbing. Then from there it plays out all over again.-Some cycles repeat themselves and echo so closely together with so little variance from another. A script one sentence short, or a song one note longer. This is one of them.
Relationships: Asuka Ryo | Satan/Fudo Akira
Comments: 6
Kudos: 114





	Dacryphilia

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who watched Netflix's Devilman and then came two years late to the party? 😂😭
> 
> ...turns out I am actually capable of short titles.

i.e. Pleasure or arousal from seeing tears or hearing the sounds of crying.

It always starts out the same. Beginning with constants. Two boys and a meeting ordained.

Mostly a kitten, but sometimes it’s a puppy, and always there is rain. Enough pitter-patter to quell the rest of the world, except for one’s sobbing. Then from there it plays out all over again.

-

_“A shame, since I came to learn more about you.”_

Fikira’s last words before self-immolation.

For all that the stench of burning flesh and gasoline still stung at the forefront of his mind, his hand gripped the steering wheel without faltering. The white Mclaren dashed along the highway with no regard for speed limit. Not that Ryo derived any adrenaline thrill that any boy his age would with the wheels he owned, just that he had a clear destination in mind from point A to point B, and with Jenny beside him, lending him her psychic sight, he could see miles ahead and take the cleanest line.

He also remembered the way Fikira’s body writhed and distorted, that demonic silhouette shrieking as it tried to escape its burning mortal host.

Up ahead, he’s forced to stop to allow a deer to cross the narrow road, and by the time he approaches, two. With more waiting back in the trees. They freeze, as the expression goes. Two pairs of glowing yellow eyes. He wonders how long it took before Fikira’s human paranoia settled in, sensing devils everywhere in the dark as they steadily subsumed him.

His foot rests against the pedal, eyes cast over black asphalt and yellow high beams as they gently pass. The dark brush line of treetops is thinly visible in the pre-dawn dark. His machine gun is snug against the back-passenger seats. Until he sees Akira again, he’d really rather not run into anyone or any _thing_ else. The most inconvenient thing he’ll encounter is another being. The worst thing another being might encounter out here is him.

-

Tracking the Makimura girl’s phone had brought him to a pier near one of the city’s shiftier neighborhoods. Garbage and waste floating in the water. Drifting to a halt along a sideroad turn, he could already sense anything here meant trouble. The girl’s family was well-to-do, but maybe she had a damsel streak. He rushes back into Akira’s life, arm outstretched and expectant, the wide smile on his face almost manic. The local riffraff don’t take kindly to being interrupted, but Ryo barely spares them a second thought. He aims for the boardwalk instead of the bodies. He’s in a good mood. Akira runs into his arms, voice breaking into a laugh, and it’s one of the purest sounds Ryo’s heard in a long time.

He steals him away then and there, and it feels overdue.

Akira’s been the only one who was ever worth a damn in this rotten world, and he finally, _finally_ has a way to reshape it all for the both of them.

-

With Makimura's receding figure in the glass of his rear view mirror, he can at least be assured that she's run out of harm's way.

Not that the fastest of humans could even keep up with the slowest cars. Akira scrambles to fasten his seat belt as Ryo accelerates, knocking the wind out of the other boy from the force. It should have terrified him (just another reason after the gun), but once Ryo reaches target speed, his finesse on the road manages to soothe Akira's nerves. 

There are a million questions in his head right now. He wants to start with the most important, but Akira could never organize himself with the same precision and priority. Then again no one could. 

Sputtering in reaction to Ryo's blunt law breaking admission, "Y-you don't even have a license?"

“Why do you run?” cutting Akira off. To anyone else it would’ve been cold. _Your times aren’t that impressive._ He kept to himself at least, having learned in the years since to possess some modicum of tact. 

“Actually, I get that question a lot.” shifting in his seat, suddenly a little self-conscious.

There were plenty of reasons, Akira supposed: something to do with Miki after school so he wouldn’t feel so awkward going back to the Makimuras on his own. Compared to Miki and Miko, he wasn’t exactly competitive, but he was better than most, and it seemed enough of a reason to continue.

He hadn’t always been an avid runner though. At least not back when he and Ryo were together. It hadn’t been something he got noticed for until after his parents started leaving regularly when he was (in their eyes) old enough. He was proud of what his parents did, loved them all the same without resentment or envy…but in his memories, as they waved goodbye at the airport, as his hands reached out for them…if he could just reach _further_ , run _faster_.

If they could’ve taken him with them.

It’s not an easy answer to articulate, least of all to Ryo. Mercifully, Ryo starts again like it was never of real importance to begin with, just a stray tangent thought of his ruthlessly efficient brain, and the question is forgotten just as quickly.

“Fikira was a Russian scholar. He died last week.”

Ryo’s always had an apathetic way of talking in which Akira doesn’t know how he should react. He waits to be given more context.

But instead an uncharacteristic pause filled the car. Akira tries to keep in mind that there's even less about Ryo he knows now. Perhaps this Fikira had also been a friend and mentor, and Ryo being back in Japan again was his way of coping.

Akira knows there's more to Ryo under the impassive facade that he presents to the world. He doesn't even know how he knows, but...if Ryo needed him now, then Akira would be here for him.

He hesitates. 

He's been fuelled by his own sense of urgency and ambition since fleeing the Amazon. Already he can envision the future ahead of him with all the surety of determinism and finality of fate. He can see his place on the throne of the new world and Akira's place beside him, knowing exactly how to position him for their destiny, and yet he hesitates just as he was about to tell Akira about the truth about devils.

He already knew Akira would believe him and that Akira would follow him, with all the loyalty of a heart that could love in the capacity it did.

But there's no going back once they start, and Akira would never be the same thereafter.

Between the space of his absence these last years, their reunion, and all the plans he will put in motion, Ryo reins himself in. He could afford a day or two without significantly delaying the inevitable.

Ryo breathes and eases slightly on the pedal, changing course against the backdrop of the sunset lit by Tokyo's skyline. There was a time for all things, and wasn't patience supposed to be a virtue?

"Why don't we go to my place and catch up?" he offers.

Akira beams.

-

Ryo had his own ways for many things, and with Jenny, money was no hardship. The true extent of his wealth Akira had no idea however, and to some degree, neither did Ryo. Those who knew exactly what they were worth tended to not be worth much at all. It was almost disgustingly simple how most avenues in life lay purely behind a monetary barrier, so naturally, Ryo amassed his fortunes quickly and deviously.

His penthouse suite in the tallest apartment of Akasaka made for comfortable living. He hadn’t gone out of his way for luxury per se, it was just standard at this point, but all of this was understandably overwhelming to Akira. “Make yourself at home.” he states nonchalantly.

Akira’s palms were against the glass and staring appreciatively at the pool. It was really the only sign of entertainment on the premises. It was rude, he knew, to gawk, and he tried not to come off as too much of a rube. Falling into step with Ryo when they were diametric opposites in every way.

“You must be hungry. My secretary can arrange for dinner. Do you have any preferences?” Mentally he also told Jenny to buy a phone. Hacking Miki Makimura’s every time would be a chore.

Akira’s brain continued to short circuit at words like ‘secretary.’ Could celebrated academics really be this well off?

“Just call for a little of everything then.” and a red-haired woman in a metallic grey business suit tacitly obeyed. She was shapely (maybe Ryo had a type…?) but intimidating (something she shared with her employer). A sudden blush crept up Akira’s neck when he realized how scantily clad she was, and he looked away quickly.

He shrugged his bag off his shoulders and let out a low whistle. To think he still had trouble cramming for university entrance exams, while Ryo was somehow a professor, social media personality, CEO (probably). He was dangerously approaching batman levels of absurdity, and Akira doesn’t know how to reconcile with the idea of Ryo suddenly becoming a playboy too.

Jokingly, he teases “Are you going to be president in another few years too?”

“My ambitions aren’t so much on the political side, but I do intend to change the world.”

Akira smiled softly at his friend, expression settling into awe tinged by fondness. Ryo was incredible. In some way…he’s glad that if they had to be apart, it would be for the sake of Ryo’s success. Their little seaside village was too small and modest to contain that. All that running, and Akira still doesn’t know what his own life’s trajectory will look like. A regular salaryman, and if he’s lucky, he’ll be married one day, but that’s as much as he can hope for.

Humbled, and grateful, Akira reaches out to take Ryo’s hand, which caused the other to still at the unexpected contact. “Hey, thanks for coming back.”

-

Ryo was unusual in the sense of being flushed and yet indifferent towards the immediate appeal that money offered. He wasn’t material, he just preferred quality. His tastes rarely wandered to sex, and drugs were never very potent in his system. As long as food met an obligate caloric threshold, he didn’t care what he ate. His clothes may have been expensive, but they were simple. His electronics were elaborate, but that’s because he required the security. In this way, each expense was justified by its operational value. Otherwise, he wasn’t in the habit of spending superfluously.

So watching Akira’s eyes light up over the selection of gourmet food was one of the few instances of satisfaction that came from spoiling another.

“How you can resist Wagyu beef!” he cried, scandalized. He muttered something between mouthfuls that sounded like _‘Inhuman.’_

Ryo didn’t even have a plate of his own but balanced a glass of expensive wine that probably cost more than an average man’s annual earnings. Just as a prop.

“Whoever you end up dating some day is going to be the luckiest girl in the world.”

The prospect has never interested him, so he steers the conversation elsewhere. Together they talk about anything else. Ryo’s research, life in America, professorship, and the possibility of tenure. Through it all, Ryo maintained the same clinical air when he spoke of his own accomplishments.

“Were you…ever lonely?” Americans were stereotypically warmer and more open than the Japanese, and maybe with Ryo’s blond hair and pale skin, it was a more natural fit.

“Truthfully, no. I had Jenny.”

But his answer only satisfied the question of _‘Were you ever alone?’_ which wasn’t quite the same. Akira doesn’t pursue it. He doesn’t need to.

For his part, Akira rambled about school, his foster family, the track team, and elaborated on how he wanted to become a doctor and join the work his parents did, but he doubted his grades would permit. Ryo listened to it all, knowing that soon none of it would matter, but…while Ryo wouldn’t go so far as to say it was _nice_ , there was…an ambience to their evening, the semblance of ordinary life that Akira was always determined to include him in.

And it became painfully evident how ordinary Akira was in most respects. Not just in comparison to himself, but as the measure of mediocrity within humans everywhere. Not particularly brilliant, not exceptionally athletic, not someone of influence. No leverage with wealth, power, or charisma.

Nothing except for his compassion.

But compassion alone would not endure. Ryo had to take matters into his own hands.

Akira shoots up. "The Makimuras! They'll be so worried, it's already so late!" visibly distressed at his inconsideration.

"Is that all? I've already texted their daughter that you're with me for the evening. Why not stay the night? Jenny can drive you to school in the morning."

"You wouldn't mind...Ryo?" 

Ryo smiles, smooth and unbothered like the calm surface of a lake. "Not at all. There's a guest bedroom and some spare nightclothes you can change into." And really anything else that could be reasonably procured.

Akira doesn't need much persuasion. He perks up again. Giving himself permission to relax for the rest of the night on a full stomach. Not unlike the promise of a childhood sleepover.

'It's easy' Akira thinks to himself that night, nestling into the pillow 'to fall under the spell of Ryo's mastery over the world. That to be invited back into it is greater than just security or comfort. It's...like being protected.' 

Sleep claims him not long after.

-

Ryo comes into the room later. It's so late it's early. Or else there's no discernable difference. He brushes back the fringe of hair on the other's forehead. There were things he had to keep from him to stay the same in Akira's eyes. There were subjects one couldn't simply divulge over dinner in polite company without ruining one's appetite.

All his ill gotten gains - none of it by any means legal - but it could be done, and so it was. What he couldn't say...was that the years they spent apart were for studying how institutions and cunning could be best exploited and used to exploit. All one needed to do was understand human nature. Then within its vices, there was no loophole one couldn't find whether it be law or code or commerce.

"I was always going to come back." he whispers.

Akira doesn't stir. Jenny's abilities ensure it.

He sleeps the sleep of innocents, while Ryo surveys wide awake. Change happens as it must, but in Akira, more is the same than not. His teenage body isn’t done maturing, but its current effects don’t seem to have taken hold very strongly: baby faced as ever like the last time Ryo saw him, tearily waving goodbye. Neither wide with muscle nor much taller.

Ryo observers all these ordinary details like the control to an experiment: before and after. There’s no devil more fearsome or belligerent as Amon, no treatment more extreme. The transformation will be breathtaking, and the new Akira magnificent.

But that didn’t mean Ryo was so unappreciative of this Akira’s uncorrupted self. His soft personality and meek nature. If the world were fair, maybe those could have been spared.

The curve of his finger traces the contour of his cheek. “I wonder if you’ll cry as easily.”

Jenny watches, a silent vigil. Emotionless herself but attuned to the emotions of her master. Her duty is to anticipate and answer his desires before they are even fully formed, and so met just as. Presumption? Perhaps had she served another, but for Ryo there has never been anyone more self-assured.

Two thin tracks of tears flow from closed eyes, as perfect and gentle as their owner. Fascinating him just the same as when they were children whilst Ryo’s eyes had never shed a drop. He thumbs one away delicately like an unbidden moment from the past released.

Later in his own bed, he lingers on the memory of that touch.

-

Jenny sends Akira to school and the rest of the student body is abuzz with the excited whisperings of the car’s make and model, causing Akira to step out awkwardly and turning him into first period gossip that lasts well into the day and doesn’t abate when Jenny is there waiting for him after school as well. Miki and Miko eye him suspiciously while he tries to laugh it off.

He would’ve been fine taking transit, honest.

When he reaches Ryo’s floor, his friend drops a brand new phone into his hands and conversationally steamrolls him as he insists he can’t accept it, eventually acquiescing to sheepish reassurances that he’ll pay him back when he gets a job.

Ryo leaves it at that, and simply allows Akira to believe it: his modesty its own charm.

Dinner is a much less extravagant affair when Akira orders, but Ryo’s distracted throughout. The hours go by and the minutes count down. He can still take Akira to the Sabbath. Tonight’s a Friday too, and the club would be teeming as a feeding ground of revelers.

But then midnight comes and goes. Akira’s eyelids drooping from fatigue as he catches up on homework. He urges him not to sleep too late either – and just like that, the opportunity is lost. 

-

He sleeps in one of Ryo’s own white silk nightshirts. He sleeps unassuming of how his existence will change. He sleeps and Ryo knows that he is stalling.

Sleep will be just one of many things surrendered once it starts, and in its place, Akira will never again be at such peace. “Let’s share just one more night of reprieve.” he whispers in the dark, balancing Akira’s unconscious figure against his chest. Embracing him without resistance.

Jenny is there to prime Akira’s emotions to bring him to the verge of tears but keeps him from the brink. It’s a state not unlike deep dreaming. Vivid, but sedate.

Like this, he confides in detail the way the future will play out. The way history has always been articulated by genocide, and over threats that were only perceived instead of real. But this time it will be. He doesn’t want to hurt Akira, has never wanted to hurt Akira, but some things cannot be done without.

Soundless and still, Akira cries and cries and cries. Ryo kisses them before they can fall, savouring the salt on his tongue. His hands undo the fastenings, and Ryo explores by touch in the dark, mapping mentally the template of Akira’s body, which would soon be host to something else.

He realizes that something inside him is reluctant to give him up and will be sorry to see it go.

Under her influence, Akira is pliant and yielding in every way, even in ways the human body would seldom naturally contain. A tearful shudder as Ryo’s hand brushes against the hardening length of his manhood.

_‘Clear the history when you watch porn on my dad’s computer.’_

_‘What? You’re watching stuff like that in the living room?’_

He remembers that private detail on the day he hacked the audio of Miki Makimura’s phone. He suspects Akira doesn’t seek many outlets, but he’s happy to help in this context, and barely a dozen strokes before he comes in Ryo’s hand. This too he tastes, before returning to prophesies of slaughter.

The night wears on, tears streaming bright in the dark on his sorrow pale face.

“It will be for the best in the end.” but they don’t stop.

And they were never any less precious.

-

In the early afternoon, Akira wakes up disoriented and tender, with the beginnings of a headache. He apologizes for waking up so late, not realizing how exhausted he must have been.

He doesn’t remember a thing.

Jenny warns Ryo that Amon is becoming impatient, stalking the shadows and rankling the chains of incorporeality. Ryo can’t risk Amon snatching at mortal scum and neither does he trust Amon to show restraint for lack of quality.

It can’t be put off any longer.

-

That night they come to the worn down doors of a ruined church, pausing.

“Because I’m scared. To be honest I’m terrified.” That part was true. There was still a risk of the violence he courted spinning out of control.

Akira reacts to Ryo’s fears as his hands take him by the shoulders. “If you say so, then I trust you.” expression open and guileless with complete faith and ignorance.

-

The months go by without a hitch. It’s all a pre-planned success until it isn’t. “I didn’t make you a Devilman so that you could go off on your own!”

He can sense that Akira is choosing the safety of the Makimuras – that girl – before him. When back at the pier it was the other way around. When Akira chose to follow him without question.

Akira doesn’t even look back as he leaves.

How was it all slipping away? Everything he orchestrated for them.

-

Some cycles repeat themselves and echo so closely together with so little variance from another. A script one sentence short, or a song one note longer. This is one of them.

-

In the end, a long quiet settles between them, in which only came the cry of the wind which bore up the scents of magma and ash. Though the stars were clear and beautiful, and he turns, wanting to hear Akira appreciate as well this hard-won view.

But he says nothing.

Disbelief renders him numb. He doesn’t grasp the droplets for what they are until they’ve fallen on Akira’s lifeless body. Too late does he finally learn what they mean for himself. Too late do the cycles of perpetuity all come back. Too late does he see it all play out again.

He can feel the heat of heaven’s army behind him.

This is perhaps God’s only mercy.

Clutching Akira against him, Satan smiles as Michael’s sword drives through his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments would go a long way in healing this broken heart of mine. 🙏
> 
> Feel free to follow and fan over at my [tumblr](https://estivate9.tumblr.com) or (more often) [twitter.](https://twitter.com/Estivate9)


End file.
